The 64th Annual Hunger Games: SYOT
by HungerGames922
Summary: New Head Gamemaker Linus Carrow promises to introduce an entirely new Games that's bloodier than ever. The entire audience will be craning to get a look at what will happen next. This is a Games that will forever be remembered.. SYOT OPEN.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the second time I'm doing an SYOT. The first was erased for whatever reason, so I want to do another. Please submit a character with the form below, and please make them interesting! If I think your character is boring, it's straight to the bloodbath for them. (by boring I mean you've given me little to no details about them, so be detailed!)**

**I've already made a few characters, that way I can get writing sooner rather than later! Please submit because I want to get right into it! Any questions, please PM me! Submissions should be sent as PM's.**

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**Submission Form:**

Name:

Gender:

Age:

District:

Personality:

Race:

Hair Color/Style:

Eye Color:

Height/Weight:

Extra Appearance:

Family/Friends

Reaping: Outfit/Emotions/Angle/Volunteer or Reaped:

Training: Angle/Score (Show off? Reserved? Alliances?)

Interviews: Outfit/Angle

Cornucopia: Weapon/Strategy/Allies

Games Strategy:

Advantages/Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Token: (may be important to the story)

**Please PM your submission asap and I'll reply letting you know if I have to change anything/have questions, etc.**

**You may only submit one character for this story! (Unless there are 2 spots open for the District and you can convince me that there's some kind of interesting story between the two)**

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**Tribute List:**

**District 1:**

Male:

Female: Scarlett Bright (16)

**District 2:**

Male: Marble Larose (18)

Female: Lavender McKercher (16)

**District 3:**

Male:

Female: Lauren Kemp (13)

**District 4:**

Male: Colton Graham (18)

Female: Rachel Malone (18)

**District 5:**

Male: Cobalt Ozment (16)

Female: Brin Hogle (15)

**District 6:**

Male:

Female: Emi Idria (15)

**District 7:**

Male: Jason McKurk (17)

Female: Shai Marin (14)

**District 8:**

Male: Quentin Norman (13)

Female: Alice Potts (15)

**District 9:**

Male: Marcus Hoffman (15)

Female: Fiona Warson (16)

**District 10:**

Male: Vincent Marshall (17)

Female: Morah Farrell (16)

**District 11:**

Male: Orson Dagwood (17)

Female: Bryony Lark (16)

**District 12:**

Male: Alto Hayes (18)

Female:


	2. Linus Carrow

The anticipation in the air was about to break loose as the Capitol audience began to simmer down. Some have had their tickets for tonight reserved for months, and finally it's time for the first coverage of the 64th Hunger Games to take place. Everyone knew that last year's Games were a little boring, and that the Head Gamemaker had mysteriously disappeared immediately afterwards. A bad Games brings a dreadfully boring year. The Victory Tour is always overlooked, the parties are less interesting, and there's never anything exciting or worth talking about. That's why this year, everyone's crossing their fingers and toes and paws and talons or whatever alterations they may have, in hopes that Linus Carrow, the mysterious new Gamemaker will have a Games worth talking about.

Carrow has seemingly never existed until the announcement of his arrival to the gamemaker team after the Victory Tour. But since then, his face has been plastered on posters and advertisements all over. He's got a memorable blonde quiff of hair with trimmed sideburns and a winning white smile. For a Gamemaker, he's said to be a very social, likable guy who embraces his new fame.

Caesar Flickerman, the host of anything big in the Capitol for seven years now, wanders out to stage with shiny white teeth and his signature midnight blue suit with matching bow tie. His hair, lips, and makeup has changed from last year's shimmery yellow to a deep purple of sorts. It fits his personality very well.

"Ladies, gentlemen. The moment has come to kick off the 64th Annual Hunger Games!" He pauses briefly for a roar of applause, then continues, because nobody can wait any longer to get things started.

"You've all heard of him. He's bright, he's outgoing, he's a winner! Please welcome the wonderful new Head Gamemaker, Linus Carrow!" When the audience begins to woo and applaud, Carrow emerges from backstage with his gorgeous smile and glimmering blue eyes. He holds his hand up in welcome and together, he and Caesar sit next to each other in two orange chairs center stage.

"Welcome, Linus. Now, we've got a lot to do before the reapings begin in one week. Tell us about what you're hoping for these Games."

"Well, Caesar, this year, for me is all about doing the best I can with the tributes we get. As everyone knows, the selection is random, and we have to make with what we get. It's one of my specialties, I have been told, that I can turn anything boring into a good show. I can't wait for everyone to see the arena!"

"Ah, of course! The arena! Has it been completed?" asks Caesar quizzically.

"Why, of course! Tributes rise up into it in just two weeks. You don't think I'd be doing anything last minute do you?" he replies with a chuckle that resounds among the audience.

"Can you give us any hints?"

"That, I cannot do. Since some of our audience tonight in the districts could very well be our tributes for the Games, I don't want to spoil their surprise!" A disappointed moan ripples through the crowd in the theater.

"Well what _can _you tell us?"

"I can definitely tell you that there will be a prize for one lucky tribute that has never been given before. And no, it is not a victor's crown. It's something else that will possibly help them on their way to becoming a victor. A very useful tool."

Commotion begins at the thought of all the possibilities. Is it a secret weapon? Some kind of special food or medicine? No, it has to be better than that. After all, he said these Games are going to be better than ever. Caesar and Linus continue talking about the Games in general, how it's benefited the country of Panem, and how the past only leaves millions of possibilities for future Games.

"Every year, we grow to know a brand new victor. Every person is unique, and to be able to find the best ones among bigger groups through the Games, we get to see a large array of victors emerge. I think that's one of the most exciting parts of the Games. Every year, there's a new celebrity with new things to offer us. And that's something that will always be different about each year's Games."

The two men chatter and joke a little more until things wind down and they shake hands. Linus blows a kiss to the adoring crowd and exits the stage as Caesar thanks everyone for coming.

"The reapings begin in just one week, folks! Be sure to tune in as I and your _second _favorite television host, Claudius Templesmith, bring you day by day coverage leading up to the Games! I have a good feeling. It's a really good feeling that these Games will be the best yet! Good night, Panem!" he shouts with a wink to the cameras.


	3. Update

**I still need a bunch more tributes before I can really kick off. If you haven't yet submitted a tribute, I suggest you make a Career tribute. I still need a male from 1 and both from 2. Once I get the male from 1 I can begin with the reapings and we can go from there! Thanks guys!**


	4. Story Layout

While I'm waiting, I figured I'd push the story back to the front of the list to get more attention by adding this piece to explain how the story will be set up. Every new chapter will either start right off or have a little forward in bold from me. If the story just begins without any clarification of who is narrating, it's probably just a description of a television program or an interview with Caesar, capitol coverage, etc. I like to throw in point of views from the Capitol audience so you can see it through their eyes. Otherwise, it will clarify whose point of view it is in bold and which district they are from, that way there's little confusion as to who is speaking.

The story will start with the reapings. They'll be pretty short, just giving a little back story to each of the characters and having a quick coverage segment with Caesar or Claudius, and then we'll move on to the Capitol. The purpose of the reapings is basically just for chartacter development and back story.

Then I'll be writing one long chapter about the Opening Ceremonies with lots of fun coverage from Caesar (can you tell I like him) etc. Then two chapters of training. The training scores will be from a Capitol's perspective. So you will not know what each character does in their private sessions, jus their score. That way the Games are a little more exciting and will bring more surprises. Plus it's a little repetitive to write 24 dfferent segments about people hitting dummies with swords. Same goes for the Interviews, each segment will be short. Not every tribute's Interview will be included, because some may not be relevant to the story or necessary. But again, most of them will be included at least a little bit, if not their full interview.

Then after that, the Games will begin. There may be a couple random chapters with Linus Carrow here and there about the arena, I'm not entirely sure yet. We'll just see where this goes! At the end of each chapter in the arena, there will be a full tribute list to update you on who is alive (bold) and who is deceased (italicized, with information on when and how they died).

Can't wait to start! This chapter will be deleted once I actually start the story.


	5. Reapings: District 9

_POV – Fiona Warson D9_

Every year, the reaping gets harder and harder to suffer through because my name goes in the bowl an extra time. This year, my name's in the bowl a grand total of five times. Some less fortunate kids have it in way more than that, but even five makes my stomach roll into knots every time it crosses my mind.

I think I'd look really cute in this velvety pink dress if it weren't for the sulky expression locked onto my face. I've never worn it yet. Mom said the reaping is never the time to repeat an outfit. It's thanks to her I've got a great sense of style. It's thanks to her for a lot of things actually, like when I found out she's been sleeping with the mayor to make sure my name never _really _gets picked on reaping day. So there's not much reason to be worried, after all.

I can still remember it quite clearly. She came home late once, my father worried sick. And after a few minutes they just started sobbing and screaming at each other. I sat and watched as a poor twelve year old girl, as my parents made the decision to lead separate lives away from one another. Of course I cried, for a few weeks. But I got over it.

Then when a few months ago, after my mom had willingly gave herself to the mayor for four years, she came home and told me her _relations _with him would no longer be happening. She said they just decided to call it off. I had a million questions to ask, but she refused to answer any of them. That night, I saw her limping into the bathroom and applying bandages on several areas on her body.

After signing in, I join a few of my girlfriends in the sixteen-year-olds section as everyone begins to round up for the reaping. A bright green man stands up on stage with the mayor and the council of District 9 as the reaping commences.

Every year it's the same. The same speech about the Dark Days, the same spiel, the same nervousness evoked throughout the crowd of onlookers, until finally the green man welcomes himself to the stage and begins to walk over to the bowl that contains my name five whole times. He crosses back to the microphone and declares my name.

_POV – Marcus Hoffman D9_

"Fiona Warson!" shouts the escort for our district. I quickly recognize the name of the pretty, frilly girl from the grade above me and I hear a burst of cries from over on the girls' side. Fiona and her crying are impossible to hear over the wails and screams of her surrounding friends. It's kind of sad to see, even though she really is full of herself.

"Oh, stop!" says the escort playfully, "It's not like she's already dead!" He giggles all by himself as everyone glares at him in disgust. He shakes it off and hurries Fiona to come up to the stage. Peacekeepers have to rip Fiona's friends off of her and carry her up to the stage. She's always been dramatic, so it makes sense that her final act is a bit of a show.

"Well, now that we've finally got you up here," the escort says, a little annoyed, "What's your name, deary?"

"F—Fiona," she chokes. I'm sure she's sad, but it's almost hilarious how much she's trying to break the hearts of the audience, as if her sadness will get her out of being a tribute for the Games.

"Fiona what?"

"Warson."

The escort pats her on the back and quickly shuffles over to the boys' bowl. He must be running low on time. The Capitol keeps everything on a tight schedule, after all. He returns with a single slip that he dug deep into the ball for.

"Marcus Hoffman!" he yells. My heart sinks far below any level it should ever be able to sink. I had a date with Erin tonight. Oh god, Erin. I look over and now she's joined the girls around her, clinging to them for her life. The sight of her glossy eyes makes me weak, and I begin to cry as well as I walk out into the center aisle and make my way up to the stage.

"Welcome, Marcus. What a handsome young man. Love the blonde hair!" remarks the escort away from the microphone. I try my best to avoid his comment and turn to face the crowd.

"There you have it, folks. Your tributes from District Nine for the Sixty-Fourth Annual Hunger Games!" he shouts as he pulls Fiona and me in to shake hands. As I grab her hand and look into her eyes, I notice that she feels the same true pain that I do, as neither of us expects to get out of the arena alive. And even if we do, it will still only be one of us.

How do they expect us to get along with those kinds of odds?

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**So I was going to do the reapings in order, but I got tired of waiting. So the reapings will all be out of order until I get all my tributes. Hope you enjoy them!**


	6. Reapings: District 5

_POV – Brin Hogle D5_

I stand among the other fifteen-year-old girls in a sort of huddle. This is our fourth year in the reaping and it hasn't seemed to get any less terrifying over the past years. In fact, I think it gets harder to endure since the odds are always less in our favor than they were the year before.

Every reaping is impossible to get through. It brings back terrible memories of when I was just seven years old and my older sister, Alexa was reaped. She was just fourteen at the time and her tiny little body did nothing to help her in the Games. I don't remember exactly when, but I know she died early on when a boy tackled her and snapped her neck.

After the short speech from the mayor, our escort pops up onstage in her bubbly pink dress and hat. Her personality is just like all the others in the Capitol: Outgoing and more excited than ever to see a bunch of little kids butcher each other to death.

"Let's pick our girl, why don't we?" she says into the silent square. On her way to the bowl, she trips and knocks the entire podium over and the bowl of slips crashes onto the cement stage of the Justice Building. Although the mood is very dark, almost everyone lets out a little bit of laughter. She shakes it off and ends up just picking up a slip that lies idle on the ground.

"Brin Hogle, come on up!" she yells. Of course, everyone always assumes that someone else will get picked, and that there's no way in hell it'll ever be them. But someone has to make the sacrifice, and this year it's going to be me. My friend, Cecelia grabs my hand but I make her let go. I can't cry, not here. Once I'm on the train, I'll have plenty of time to myself to realize how tragic this situation really is. There's exactly zero ways of avoiding my certain death. I'm a fifteen year old girl with as much muscle as a sloth, and I'll certainly be up against a few boys who've trained their whole lives to win the Hunger Games.

When I make it onstage and stand next to the escort, she smiles at me, then turns to the audience.

"Round of applause for Brin Hogle!" she begs. A few obligatory claps resound about the square as I seek out my parents. When I find them, I see devastation. They had to adjust to having just one daughter a few years ago, which they had finally gotten around to adapting to. But now, they'll be completely childless after this year's Games.

_POV – Cobalt Ozment D5_

I've only spoken to Brin Hogle a few times at school. We're in the same grade. I feel so bad for her, because everyone knows her sister was killed in the Games just a few years ago. And now here she is, most likely going to do the same.

I stand awkwardly amidst the crowd of sixteen-year-old boys, sectioned off from almost all of my friends on the girls' side. Sometimes I just wish I had been born a girl. Apart from all the annoying drama and makeup and constant angst, I feel like it would have made my life a hell of a lot easier. I'd be standing with my friends right now, for one, rather than all these dumb, immature idiots called boys. Second, maybe my father would have actually abstained from beating the hell out of me every night once he gets drunk.

Brin stands alone on stage next to the klutzy escort, who now goes over to the bowl that has my name. She makes an obvious note to watch her footing and not knock this bowl over, and picks a slip right from the top of the pile. When she gets back, I barely have time to catch a breath before she quickly reads off my name and I'm being escorted off by peacekeepers. I hear a few girls, my friends, whimpering to my right. I try not to look over, knowing it'll only break my heart a little more.

When I get to the stage, the escort greets me and I stand with my hands behind my back. I know I won't cry, mostly because my drunk of a father has beaten all the tears I had left out of me. But if I could cry, I would be sobbing.

"Your District Five tributes: Brin Hogle and Cobalt Ozment! Thank you all for coming, and happy Hunger Games!"

In a flash, Brin and I are shaking hands like dead fish before we're rushed off into the Justice Building to say our goodbyes.

"You can win," my mother tells me, "I know you can. You have a reason." I nod my head. Then the last thing I say to her I say with anger.

"If I don't come home, you have to promise me you'll leave dad." She thinks for a second, and then silently agrees.

"If I do come home, I'm sure I'll have no problem killing another person."


	7. Reapings: District 2

_POV – Lavender McKercher D2_

My thin silky emerald green dress floats around my mid-thighs as I walk to the reaping, alone with arms crossed. Before I left, I kissed my sick mother on the forehead and told her goodbye, and that I may never come back because this was the year I'd be volunteering. I was going to wait until I turned 18, but mom's gotten a lot worse this year, and I'm afraid waiting another two years will be too late.

Every year, the victor of the Hunger Games is showered with riches, food, luxury, and anything else they want, really. When I was younger, my mom was diagnosed with cancer, and has been getting progressively worse ever since. Even before she was sick, I had trained myself to be a survivalist, just because it was popular among the other kids in District 2. They always told stories about how they'd one day win the Hunger Games and get all the boyfriends and girlfriends they wanted.

Now that we're volunteer age, a lot of those kids have taken their words back. District 2 is famous for their vicious careers, but in all honesty, there's only a few of them every year. Most of everyone else is just as afraid of being a tribute as the rest of the districts. Except 1 of course, they're the Capitol's toy, and they can't even help but idolize the Games a little bit. Of the sixty-three years of Games so far, I counted a total of 17 victors from District 1, the current record for any District. We follow behind in second place with 12, and District 4 after us with 10. More than half the victors of the Games are careers. I suppose the Capitol gets a little tired of us, although every year we tend to be the favorites.

I file into place after signing in and prepare myself to volunteer. How will I say it? I feel as if everyone just screams, I volunteer! And jogs up to he front all proud and happy. I don't want to do that. I don't even want to be a Career, really. I just want to win the Hunger Games and become a victor. Screw the Careers.

The mayor gives a droning speech about the rebellion and how the Hunger Games came to be, my arms still crossed in impatience. After what seems like a reasonably long chunk of time, the colorful, sickeningly excited escort makes her way to center stage where she tests out the microphone.

"Testing. Testing. Is it on? Oh, it's on! Welcome District 2! Are we excited today?" Most people just half-heartedly clap, but a few trainers, Games crazy old men, and gamblers throw in a few cheers and whoops.

"Excellent! Let's begin." I don't know why, but something in me pushed me forward to just go now.

I walk out into the aisle in the middle, everyone turning their heads and whispering loudly. I hear my name over and over being passed from mouth to ear, eyes stabbing me with their gazes. The escort has crossed over to the bowl full of girls' names when she notices me walking up.

"Let me make this easier for you," I say loud enough for her to hear, "Lavender McKercher." By now I'm walking up the steps to join her onstage. She walks back to the microphone, a little confused.

"I guess that means we have a volunteer," she says with forced excitement. Then she turns away from the microphone and comes in close to my face.

"You're _supposed _to wait for the name to be read, sweetie," she says sternly with an intense gaze.

"I don't play by the rules," I reply. She smiles and turns back to face the crowd.

"Now, for the boys." She walks over to the other ball.

_POV – Marble Larose D2_

Here it comes. My chance to volunteer. It's my last chance, of course, since I'm 18. I heard a few other guys saying they might volunteer this year, but I'll beat anyone up if it means being tribute this year. I've trained so hard, I'm positive I'm ready. Not afraid to kill. I'll make District 2 so proud. I'll be just like Brutus, but better.

The grossly green escort comes back to the microphone with a slip of paper and unfolds it. With a clearing of her throat, she proudly reads out, "Warren Stone!"

"I volunteer!" I bellow out. The boys in front of me turn around and look at me like I'm insane, but I grin widely back at them. I did it.

I trot up toward the stage, waving and smiling at people who I pass. I try my best to be charming to the girls, but they just look away. Oh well, once I get back they'll be all over me. It always happens to the male victors. With all that money, who wouldn't want to be with them?

"Well then, mister! Someone followed proper procedure!" said the escort with a subtle glance toward the girl who volunteered.

"Right, now what are your names?" I grab the microphone from the escort before she can lean it toward the girl. A few people chuckle when I do it.

"Marble Larose!"

"And you?" she asks the girl, swinging the microphone back around to the girl.

"Lavender McKercher," she says boldly.

"Well there you have it! Shake hands, you two."

I turn to Lavender, who will most likely be my ally during the Games for the most part, up until the end. I smile subtly, and she returns the expression. If she's a volunteer, she's already a friend of mine.


	8. Reapings: District 10

_POV - Morah Farrell D10_

I honestly never thought the day would come when my name got picked out of that bowl with thousands of slips in it, when mine was only in ten times. But the escort did not lie when she loudly read my name to the audience in District 10.

I walk out into the aisle, my brightly orange hair falling straight down my back. I take slow steps followed by the peacekeepers who make sure I don't run away. There really is no escape. I begin to shed a tear as I hear my mother wailing behind me in the audience. I'm all she has, and I'm being taken away from here. It's almost certain I'm not coming back. I've spent my life going to school and feeding chickens, no training to kill other kids my age.

"Welcome, sixteen-year-old Morah Farrell!" says the escort with his Capitol accent.

I say nothing in return, but just face the crowd with my eyes gently closed. Seeing my mother's face would surely make me burst into tears, and weaklings don't ever get sponsors in the Games. Even though I don't think I'll win, I at least want to be sent food every once in a while. I stand and wait, blind, while the escort goes to grab the name from the boys' bowl.

He comes back and reads out the name "Vincent Marshall!" and I open my eyes. I know who that is. If I wasn't terrified before, I am now. Vincent, the stocky, dark-haired boy from the twelfth grade comes marching up to the stage.

_POV - Vincent Marshall D10_

I recognized the girl when she walked up to stage. She goes to my school. She's very pretty. But then the Capitol man called my own name and I sadly walked up to the stage.

Now I stand before the people of my district, ashamed. Either I die, or I come back as a killer, and nobody likes a killer. So I make the decision to not kill in the arena. How I'll become the winner without doing so, I'm not too sure yet.

I shake hands with the red haired girl and we give a wave to the crowd, which isn't very excited. I look at my parents, my sister who is also in the crowd of eligible children, and give them one last wave goodbye, in case I never return.


	9. Reapings: District 4

_POV – Rachel Malone D4_

"Marrian Longe!"

"I volunteer!" I shout. I push a few girls aside to get out into the aisle, trying not to giggle with excitement. I get out into the aisle as the peacekeepers surround me and I start walking very quickly toward the Justice Building's stage.

"Wow, what an excited competitor!" the escort says as I approach her onstage. I strut over to her and grab the microphone.

"Yes, I've very excited!" I yell, followed by a cheer, "My name is Rachel Malone."

The audience seems a little annoyed with all my excitement, but that's not gonna kill my mood. I continue to cheer as I stand onstage in my slim white dress. I put it on to show everyone how good I look. I know I'm hot, what's wrong with showing it off for the whole country to see?

Well then," the escort says into the microphone, "time for the boy."

_POV – Colton Graham D4_

Seeing Rachel volunteer makes me a little sick to the stomach. She has the same air of excitement as always, except this time it's about killing other kids who are mostly younger than her. We're both eighteen, and this is our last year in the reaping.

Just four years ago, my brother died in the Games. He was Rachel's boyfriend. Well, he was her ex when he died in the Games, because he ended it right before leaving for the Capitol. I can still remember her being so happy and excited for him, while he wasn't excited at all. He was reaped. He didn't want to be a part of the Games. So right then and there, he dumped her. And that's when she angrily dropped the bomb that she had been sleeping with me for an entire six months before that point, and that's when my brother beat me to a pulp before I was carried out by peacekeepers.

After my brother died in the arena, Rachel and I had completely stopped talking. I no longer found her to be the sexy, scandalous girl I had seen her as when she was dating my brother. I saw her as a monster, someone who was too dangerous for me. Looking at her up on that stage in that very revealing dress makes me angry.

I've thought for the past three years since my brother died about how maybe one day I'd volunteer to avenge his death and become the victor. Then I'd live a luxurious life in the Victor's Village, which in District 4, is a wonderful road of mansions that sit with a view of the ocean, just a minute's walk from the beach.

This morning, I decided there was no point in risking it, and that I wouldn't volunteer. But Rachel's decision altered everything. If I'm being totally honest, I want to see her dead. If I have to do it, that's no problem.

The escort calls out a boy's name that's blocked out by the adrenaline suddenly rushing through me. I'm actually doing it.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I scream. Immediately Rachel finds me in the crowd and her excitement is stifled. Her eyes get wide, almost with anger. She hasn't spoken to me, or barely seen me, since my brother died.

I jog up to the stage and say my name into the microphone. She asks us to shake hands, and we do. I smile a little bit to let her know that I volunteered because of her. She does not smile back.


	10. Reapings: District 8

_POV – Alice Potts D8_

I'm fifteen, and this is my fourth time in the reaping. I've had to take out tesserae for my family, so my name's in twenty times. Even if I never get picked, my name will be in the bowl a total of thirty-five by the time I'm eighteen, and the thought of that is absolutely terrifying.

My two little sisters go to their sections. It's my youngest sister's first reaping and she's been crying all week. But she doesn't have to worry. I take the tesserae so that they don't half to, and her name's in the reaping one single time, which is as low as I can get it.

"Welcome to the starting point of the 64th Annual Hunger Games! Today's a very historic day, as this year's victor could be standing in this very crowd!" says the escort. Not likely. District 8 has only had four victors to date.

The escort continues ecstatically about how happy she is to be our escort, and that District 8 is the reason she's so highly fashionable. After she starts to tear up over the matter, she shakes it off and begins to cross over and pick out the girls name, who I pray isn't me. She comes back to center stage and I hold my breath.

"Alice Potts," she says somewhat casually. It takes a second for it to sink in, because I'm shocked that the name I feared to hear her say is the one that came out of her mouth. Don't look panicked; cameras are surely trying to find you at this very moment. Maybe they already have. The few girls around me stare at me, a few apologize, and others put their hands over their mouths as if they weren't expecting someone to _actually _get picked.

"Well come on, we haven't got all day, Alice!" says the escort with impatience. I walk in between an opening that has been left for me by the pity party I'm surrounded by. As I walk up toward the stage, my sisters look at me silently, tears peacefully trickling down from their eyes.

By the time I get up to the stage, the very pushy escort already has the boy's slip in her hand, and she reads it aloud.

_POV – Quentin Norman D8_

The escort just said my name. It was only in there twice. How in the world did she pick mine out? It has to be rigged. Before I can stop myself, tears well up in my eyes and pour out. I really can't help it because it's just not fair. I'm thirteen years old, still small and growing and I'll be up against big, tall, muscular eighteen-year-old boys who have been training to kill people like me for years.

My mother died during childbirth and my father was killed by a peacekeeper three years ago. I've lived in an orphanage since I was nine. I guess I'm used to tragedy, but my own death just seems ten times as worse, especially when I thought my life was just beginning.

I just wanted to grow up and get my first girlfriend and get a house and get married and have a good job and live happy and without worries. But as I walk onto the stage, tears still rolling down my face, me not bothering to wipe them away, I realize living happy and without worries have never been possible in Panem. You are either born into the Capitol, or the majority who are born into the districts. Happiness as a district citizen is just as likely as my name being picked from that bowl. It happens one in tens of thousands.

* * *

**Hey, everyone please spread the word about this SYOT. I still need boys from 1, 3, and 6 and a girl from 12. If we don't get them, we won't be able to get passed the reapings, and those get a little boring after a while. Thanks so much for reading this far. Please review and tell me how I'm doing!**

**TELL ALL YOUR FRIENDS**


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